


prayer.

by nitroish



Series: bbs stuff. [6]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Major Character Injury, Until There Is, Violence, no beta we die like men, ohm gets ouched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:32:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitroish/pseuds/nitroish
Summary: theres a hand on the back of his neck when his eyes open, and he hears something dripping, though his ears sound like theyre stuffed with cotton. his eyes leave nothing to be seen through a dark haze and they burn as something falls into them.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> warning for torture and shit.  
> in general tw. none of this  
> chapter is good. it gets better  
> in the second one, i think.

theres a hand on the back of his neck when his eyes open, and he hears something dripping, though his ears sound like theyre stuffed with cotton. his eyes leave nothing to be seen through a dark haze and they burn as something falls into them. theres voices around him he cant hear well, until someones hitting him over the ear with their hand and the hand around his neck tightens its grip. he feels dizzy and lets his head loll back with the force of someone pulling him back and shaking him. he hears them ask something, something he cant answer because - because - he cant - it would kill someone - someones - people - 

theres silence as he sputters through saying a 'no' and the hand on his neck hurts as it adjusts and weeds its fingers into the hair thats at the nape of his neck. he doesnt get to finish the last note of his disagreement before hes pushed forward, forward, something hits his chest and hes bent over it, and the dull pain there makes him wonder how many times this process has been repeated. his head goes under liquid, and he barely gets to breathe in before its in his ears and nose. his hands are useless from where theyre tied behind him, and his head is light from the lack of oxygen he cant grasp through the soaked cloth over his face, and he closes his eyes when the water seeps through and hes shaken around and held under the water until they see his chest give way when he cant hold his breath any longer, and then they wait longer, past his frantic pushing back against the hand on his neck, past the slow decline in fighting and struggle, and then they wait longer - and longer - and ohm chokes and knows hes inhaled water at this point, doesnt know how many times this has gone on over and over and doesnt know the rough estimate of how much water in all has been forced into his system, but he knows it burns and it hurts.

then hes pulled back out before the black clouds take over his eyes and he coughs and theres water running down his chin and face, the cloth is stuck to his face, and he wheezes as he tries to breathe through the wet piece keeping him from gathering a satisfying breath. he hears someone snort and the hand on his neck twists to the side, forces ohms neck to follow, and jerks forward a bit, moving ohms entire upper half and scaring ohm into holding what oxygen hes gathered until he realizes theyre messing with him, and his panic rises only further. he hears someone say his name, not ohm, his name and he cant tell if hes crying or its the chlorine tinted water running down his face and making his eyes water. 

someone hits over his ear again, its constantly ringing at this point, something is asked, he says anything, and hes out before his face hits the water again.

the second time he wakes, hes propped against a cool concrete wall. panic rises from its place in hia body and chokes him. theres cloth is still over his face but its dry now, and he feels sick. he vaguely remembers kryoz talking about chlorine once, how its toxic and can put someone in a coma or kill them. he remembers how he himself had laughed and asked why he knew so much about it. he wonders if kryoz has been shoved into a tub of chlorine tinted water and held under by his hair. he wonders about smiity, who has a fear of bodies of water that are bigger than the shower in the bases smallest bathroom. he sits there, tied down to a cold wall, clothes still wet, hair still sticking to his forehead and thinks about how maybe this is for the best. hes glad smiity wasnt grabbed, glad delirious or kryoz werent grabbed. glad no one he knows were grabbed. they needed each other, and ohm doesnt think he has the kind of tie to anyone that they all have to each other.

hes tired, his head thrums, and his ear rings constantly in the background of his constant state of panic, he practically feels his chest bruising where he was shoved onto the edge of the metal tub over and over, and he leans his head back against the wall and closes his tired, burning eyes.

.

he wakes up feeling unrested and sick. he blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to the light coming through the cloth around his head. he feels so light - too light - every movement of his body feels too fast, too unpredictable and it hurts his head and eyes to move that seemingly quickly. he doesnt know if something woke him up, but theres still a dull ringing in his ear and his chest constricts into itself in a way that makes him wheeze and gag upon his anxiety rising once more. the gagging doesnt help his already sick stomach and he clenches his fists behind his back and tilts his head back against the concrete wall behind him, breathing as deep and slow as he can to try and keep himself from being sick.

as he breathes, he takes into account what he can hear and feel around him. its almost quiet, but the ringing his ear seems to be nagging him with echoes in his head, and he hears water dripping from somewhere in whatever room hes in. its cold and the walls and floor around him are concrete. he can only imagine how large or small the room is. he shifts a bit down, lets his hands brush against the floor. its wet, and ohm realizes theres a distinct smell of metal and something sick and rotten in the air, so he twists his head around and - oh. he can see slightly through the cloth around his head, and that is a body. ohm panics upon coming to the realization and jerks away from it, and hopes to some god that might exist that that isnt one of his friends. his chest tightens and he sits a foot away from the body, as far as he could make it without feeling like he was about to be sick. the smell itself, now that he notices it, becomes less easy to ignore, and ohm tilts his head down and gags every time it becomes too much.

his hands are coated in what he assumes is blood, and everytime he shift he shivers at the smooth, gross texture of the blood on his hands. he can only hope that he either dies soon or his friends are figuring something out. if they dont, then may that same whomever god aforementioned let him die soon.

his shoulders ache from being held back for so long, his chest hurts, his side hurts, his legs feel too heavy, his wrists feel like theyre burning where the cord is cutting and sawing into his flesh, and his neck feels like its being torn apart by the cloth thats been tightened there. he doesnt cry, he refuses to, and he bites the inside of his cheek and hopes to hell that he doesnt get sick before this shit is removed from his face.

.

he sees a shape in front of him when he opens his eyes again, and he panics. his breathing quickens and his throat closes up upon the shadow seen through the cloth. in his panic, he slams his head back into the concrete to avoid them getting closer and closer. it doesnt help much. his vision flashes, his ears ring, and he can feel the blood on his hands and the floor, and he thinks hes finally going to be sick. he hears them laugh, he thinks he does, they are definitely making noise, and someone grabs his ankle and pulls him toward them, his head hitting the floor when his body isnt supported by the wall anymore. his vision flashes again, and there are spots flying across his already darkened and blocked vision. he kicks at them, feels his foot land on something hard, and for a moment theres nothing gripping him and hes clawing at the ground with his hands and scrambling backwards.

then theres a loud scream, something stands over him - he cant breathe - the scream chokes out, theres an ugly gargling noise - and - oh - it was him - 

something cracks, and the thing choking him stands, and steps back, and oh - there were two of them?

suddenly, his ankle flares up in pain and ohm feels like hes convulsing as he tries to curl forward around his leg. hes kicked in the side until hes laying on said side and they tell him not to choke on his own tongue or something while theyre gone. the door is closed, and ohm finally cries in what feels like forever. he shakes for what feels like hours, tries to breathe through a tight chest for longer, and when they come back he still hasnt uncurled or moved from his place.

they stand over him, and he only finally blacks out after what feels like years when one of them step on his already injured ankle.


	2. two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he wakes up again. he opens his eyes. he thinks hes going to only see fabric again, but this time he can see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more warnings. blood and shit mentioned.

he wakes up again. he opens his eyes. he thinks hes going to only see fabric again, but this time he can see. he sees what he can only assume was on his head laying on the floor a few feet away. theres blood on it. he looks up and. the door is metal. the walls and floor are dirty. theres blood, everywhere. hes in a puddle of it, and hes back against the wall. he looks to his left, and the body from before is still there. he turns his gaze down and sees dry, old blood. ohm stares at it, and its then he realizes the ringing in his ear has stopped, and he shuffles around a bit until he feels like he can confirm he cant hear from that ear much. he opens his mouth to see if it does anything. he hears something pop, and the dull ringing is back.

he stares at his lap and then goes lower, looking at his ankle. he can see the sick vibrant blue and purple colours peeking from his sock. he doesnt move it, and it hurts just from sitting there. he feels emotionally and mentally numb. tired. he still feels sick, and hes too hot for what it was the past few days. his mouth and throat burn a bit now too, and he reminds himself that he had swallowed or inhaled some chlorine. he mentally thanks kryoz for the mini lesson on the toxicity of chlorine, but he wishes now he didnt know. just a bit, he wishes he didnt know. coma. death. swelling of the throat. vomit. burning mouth and throat. sick stomach. he wishes he didnt know.

he does eventually turn to the side and throw up. with the smell of rotting flesh mixed with his own stench and his already sick stomach, he was already losing that battle. when hes done, he still feels hot, still sick, and he wishes he wasnt wearing so many layers. but he has no way to take them off, so he doesnt say anything about it to the noone around him and closes his eyes. he tries to sleep. he vaguely tastes chlorine, and wishes he had a drink or something to wash it out with.

.

he wakes up.

again.

everything is just a bit slower.

he closes his eyes, and pretends not to notice his ankle burning, the fresh blood on the floor, the painful feeling of new bruises and cuts.

.

hes hit across the face and thats why he wakes up.

hes back under in less than ten minutes.

it hurts.

.

he wakes up.

he looks up, and the person standing above him has no mask on. ohm sees them lift something, it glints in their hand, and he closes his eyes.

no mask.

hes probably not getting out of here alive.

.

a sharp pain in his shoulder wakes him, and he squints through blurry vision and chokes on the smell of leather.

a hand covering his mouth, his nose - he cant breathe - 

another sharp pain, and his scream sounds weak and torn as it exists his dry and abused throat.

he hears someone tell him to shut up, or itll be worse.

another cut, more pain, and he shuts up with his eyes rolling back into his head and blacking out.

.

he wakes up.

theres no one in the room.

his arm hurts, and theres more blood on the floor.

he hears gunshots, and he hopes theyre all dying.

no mask, he thinks.

he smiles, and his mouth feels bloody.

he closes his eyes and hopes its the last time he has to do this.

no mask, he thinks.

.

he wakes up.

it isnt the last time he had to do this.

theres someone at the door, and ohm feels his heart sink into his stomach. did they not die? were the gun shots a lie? a round of shooting to give ohm the hope theyre dying? theyre messing with the door handle, and ohm leans his head back and blatantly doesnt cry. no satisfaction for them.

he has a fever at this point, and it takes him back under into the waves of its weird ways.

its not sleep.

his entire being hurts.

.

he wakes up. (again.)

it wasnt sleep.

he drifts back into consciousness that he hadnt fully slipped from yet.

so it wasnt sleep.

the door is opening. he hears yelling, hears multiple pairs of feet wander over, slow and cautious, fast and panicked. he doesnt open his eyes yet. the mix of noises and voices make him dizzy, and hes scared, and he waits - and waits -

when theyre close enough, he kicks out at the nearest person with his one good leg. his foot knocks into them, and he hears more yelling and he retreats his leg close to them and hopes they dont attack his already painfully frozen ankle laid out there. moving took so much energy, hes so tired, he hurts. he barely opens his eyes and his vision still swims and it makes him too dizzy, to light, and its too bright, so he closes them again.

theres more yelling, more commands, and nothing touches his bad foot or ankle. he hears someone shove what he assumes is the rotten body next to him aside and hears a grunt, listens to some people say something about this being sick or horrifying. he shakes there against the wall as they move around him, panicked and scared of the voices. he hears more gunshots, theyre closer, and he jumps at the sound, theres more yelling, and ohm gags and then hes being held over something, and he panics, because its against his chest, its metal - he cant tell if theres water - he slams himself backwards away from it. his head is somehow stopped from hitting the wall, something soft behind his head, and he becomes all to distinctly aware of someone kneeling next to him.

theyre talking, whispering to him, and their hands are gentle and unlike those of the hands that choked him and hit him. he still shakes, hes still scared, he cant see, it hurts to breathe, and his body feels like its barely there. they shift him a bit, and his hands are released from the shit holding them behind his back, and the person holds his hand and his shoulder and makes it a point for him to slowly move it forward. it hurts, and hes so sore, and they dont mention anything when he starts breathing too quickly again, and he feels his eyes start to water. they tell him to slowly move his other arm, and ohm shakes his head and stops moving all together. its too much, he cant, and their hands brush over cuts and bruises and he cant do much more than try and flinch away. he hears the person next to him call someone else over, and ohm jumps out of his skin when someone else grabs his right shoulder. they dont go as slow, but theyre still careful when moving his arm forward, and ohm hangs his head back against the wall until he can breathe again. 

the person to his right goes still.

then ohms sleeve is being pushed away from his arm, and he finally jerks away completely, yelling, curling his arm into his stomach and around it.

'they cut through his fucking - into his arm - blood dried - stuck to skin -' 

everythings cutting in and out, everything hurts, and it takes everything in ohm to let them push him back up and out of his curled up position. they move him forward, away from his wall, and now theres an extra set of hands now, behind him, holding him up.

a new wall. theyre warm. he tilts his head back against them, and theyre soft. he wheezes out a hum, and it sounds gross, like he cant breathe and has a dry mouth, and a hand shifts to the inside of his wrist and they know hes breathing, so they continue.

there are more voices, more commands, less gunshots, less gunshots, until there are none. the three people by him stay there. on the left, he hears more shuffling. they ask him questions, and he cant answer them. his throat hurts and his tongue wont comply with his commands.

eventually the person on his right speaks, and ohm feels like he knows them, like he knows their voice, and he shifts his arm a bit and tries his best to do . something. he doesnt know what, but hes trying. they squeeze his hand, and he does his best to try and do it back, because hes scared, he cant see, his ear is ringing and everything is so loud.

the person behind him is quiet, and ohm can feel them shaking slightly. when they speak, their voice is small, full of worry, panic, but somehow still loud, commanding, and they remind him of both moo and squirrel when theyre coming down from the anxiety and workload after a bad mission full of injuries. he misses them.

to his left he hears, 'we shouldnt move him yet - - hes out of sorts - - he can barely open his eyes, let alone move - -' and ohm doesnt want to be left here, and now hes scared of them leaving him here. he just got a semblance of help, and now they want to leave him here? they cant - they have to take him with them - 

the person to his right speaks up, and ohm feels his chest untighten a bit when they do. 'we arent leaving him here. none of us leave until hes in the first car home.' ohm deflates just a bit, breathes in just a bit deeper, and it doesnt go unnoticed by the people next to him. the person behind him tightens their grip. theres complaints, but only those of people wanting to leave as soon as possible, not that they want to leave him here, and some voices he hears are full of anxiety he can hear, and ohm hopes they get out of here soon. he feels bad for holding them up. he lets his head fall onto the person behind him and then the people immediately next to him panic, but hes out by the time they can start to try and keep him awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ dambbrother


	3. three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one more time.
> 
> he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another warning.  
> you know the drill.

one more time.

he wakes up.

this time he does wake up.

he was just sleeping.

he feels light, and theres voices still, and he opens his eyes when he realizes its darker. he hurts, and hes laying down across … the back seat of a car? when did he - what?

someones head peeks over the seat in front of him, over him, disappears, and then jumps back over with wide eyes.

'hes awake!' is yelled, to which ohms ears ring and he closes his eyes and opens his mouth to tell them to be quiet. words dont come out, but a wheezy groan does, and everyone goes silent. someone says, 'sit him up a bit. make sure hes not laying on his back if hes going to be sick again.' 

two figures reach down to him from above, and he can only curl back so far into the seat before hes stopped. he raises an arm and weakly swats at them until one of them huff and grab his arm. they pull him up with it, and his shoulder cracks in response. 'fuck - sorry - sorry, we just need you to sit up, dude.' and ohm wrinkles his nose, because boo. he wants to say fuck off, let him sleep, or whatever, but - oh.

he looks up and leans his cheek against the seat in front of him, lightheaded again, and he looks at the person who had grabbed his arm. he stares. because that person is luke, and his friend must seem to see that ohm recognizes him, because he gives ohm a weak looking smile and rests his hand on ohms head, cupping his face with his fingers under ohms ear and thumb brushing what ohm can only assume is blood off his cheek.

ohm coos as best he can and lets himself close his eyes and drift there a while. no one comments, and no one panics that his eyes closed. luke does pat his face a bit after a few minutes, so ohm cant sleep again, but otherwise the only speaking done is quiet and from the three in the front seat and behind ohm. he doesnt look too hard, cant hear very well with one ear pushed against the leather seat in front of him hes leaning against, but he can only assume its squirrel and delirious in the front seats. when the person behind him thats sitting with luke speaks, ohm can confirm its gorilla, and he licks his lips and brings his hand up lazily pat lukes arm before he lets it fall to his side again.

because hes still in pain. and pain means shit hurts. so he regrets moving alot. his arm against the seat hurts, and a bump in the road jostled his ankle, and he hisses. lukes hand keeps him from looking back down at it, or trying to lay back down, and he opens his eyes after a few minutes to glare at him. gorilla snorts and gently does his best at ruffling ohms hair.

ohm watches as the scenery around them changes, and sometimes theres a skip in it where he weaves in and out of himself. lukes hand is an anchor at this point, and ohm totally doesnt cry out when another bump in the road lifts his ankle from the seat and drops it back down. tears form, and luke shifts closer and tells him hes okay, to breathe. he cries silently through a torn up throat, luke doesnt let go, and he feels another hand snake under his cheek and off the leather and hold his head, warm, comforting. safe.

he goes back to sleep before luke can pat him awake again.

he dreams of people with no masks and him getting out alive.

.

he wakes up with his ankle flaring up, and he pulls the entire leg from whoevers messing with it. improvement, ohm thinks, because he could barely move that leg before. they curse, startled by ohms sudden movement. ohm pulls the pillow (pillow - ?) from under his head and moves to smack them with it, and theyre none the wiser to his attack until their head is smacked with it. he then throws it at them, and it takes them to the floor. ohm doesnt move, and stares at them. chest heaving, eyes watering from the pain of moving so quickly. his tongue feels heavy, so he doesnt speak. the person on the floor pulls the pillow from their face and look up at ohm. 

ah.

moo.

brock.

ohm still stares at him as he stands, and brock smiles as best he tries to, and ohm can tell its fake and forced. ohm sits up completely and makes a grabbing motion for the pillow. he wants it back. its his.

'dont throw it at me again, please and thank you.' and hes given it back. he stares at it as he holds it, refuses to let moo touch it again. he sets it in his lap, and then puts his arms on it. his wrists and hands have been cleaned, now the he looks, and hes wearing new clothes. but he can see the torn skin and bruises littered with scabs. there are cuts everywhere, and he stares at them until he gets the urge to pick at the scabs on his wrists and looks up at brock. brocks smile has dropped, and he looks defeated as he watches ohm take in his covered skin, like something has dropped tons of brick onto his back and told him to hold them alone.

ohm messes with the skin around his wrists, and stares back down at his wrists instead of brock.

'we couldnt find you. or where they were keeping you.'

ohm looks up. brock stares at his feet.

'they kept you in a separate area from where their base was. we - we had to wait.' brocks voice cracks, and ohm wishes his shoulders and arms were in less pain like they were when he first woke up, so he could reach over to him. 'we had to wait for them to fucking. leave to go where you were. and we lost them. twice. before we could figure out where they were losing us.'

ohms heart sinks, and then he jumps when he picks a scab off. it starts bleeding. ohm panics, because blood on his hand - the texture - he shoves it out to brock. because he would know what to do, and ohm cant do anything where he is. he assumes moo wouldnt like it if he tried to get up. and moo does know what to do. moo looks up and makes an 'o' with his mouth, and immediately moves over to grab a washcloth and a bandage. he cleans the blood off, and puts the wrap around his wrist. sticks it onto itself and puts the washcloth back. he sits on the bed next to ohms side, and taps ohms hand lightly once in awhile when he tries to mess with it. ohm thinks about asking if moo could just cover his entire arm. he doesnt ask.

'we couldnt find you for almost a month, ohm.' and ohm leans over and puts his head on brocks shoulder. because fuck. 'i dont - i dont know what they did to you, and i almost dont want to find out. but the guys are going to ask, and im going to ask anyways.'

ohm doesnt want them to ask. he closes his eyes.

'i wont let them ask now,' thank god for brock, ohm thinks. 'but theyre going to ask. eventually. when everything settles down and youre talking again, probably.' and then,

'but - actually, i want to know why you arent talking. if its just pain? i have medication for that stuff. pain stuff.' and ohm thinks, and thinks, and is silent, and motions for a notepad, or a phone.

he lifts his head when brock stands, and then hes left alone for a minute in the semi dark room. his body hurts. hes curious, suddenly, about his chest. because it still hurts, and he thinks of the metal basin of chlorine and water. he gags. pushes it from his mind. he lifts his hand to his chest, pushes against it, traces where it hurts. looks down and pulls the - whos shirt is this? its too big. hes keeping it. - he pulls the shirt forward and looks at his chest. its bruised. ugly. brown, yellow, blue, purple, red and irritated. he lets go of the shirt neck and breathes in. ow.

moos taking a big longer than he thought, so he looks around for the first time.

and sees his mesh blindfold. its torn. bloody. its still tied together in the back, but it looks like it was cut in the front, through the middle of his signature sign. he grabs it and holds it in his hands, tight.

he remembers when it was cut, how scared he was.

he holds it up to his face, against his forehead, and sits there quietly until brock comes back. squirrel, smiity, and evan in tow. he realizes that now theyve seen him. through his eyes, into his eyes. they saw, and they know. and he finds it fucking horrifying and nervewrecking. he wasnt ready for them to see his eyes. to see him. but none of them mention anything, say anything, comment on him. instead, he gets three idiots hugging him at once, and ohm stares at brock over their shoulders. he hugs them back, and doesnt let go for a few minutes.

eventually brock tell them to let him go, and they do, but they all refuse to leave the room. they sit around the side of the bed that isnt against the wall and pretend they arent guarding him from literally everything. squirrel sits on the bed directly next to ohm. holds his hand tight and refuses to leave. ohm smiles, just a bit. because theyre idiots, and he loves them. he rests his head against squirrels and squeezes their hand like he had done with whomever had been on his right when he was found. [he later finds out it was delirious. squirrel was behind him, and brock himself had been on his left.]

brock hands him his phone. cool. its not broken. he opens notes and looks at brock. brock repeats the earlier question.

'why arent you talking? is it just pain, or?'

and ohm looks at his hands, his phone, and types.

chlorine. throat hurts.

hes barely halfway through the word chlorine before brock is inhaling and, finally, brock is hugging him and now the others have to get him to let go. squirrel sticks their tongue out at brock for squishing them. smiity glances at the phone and leaves the room, head ducked. ohm understands, and doesnt push that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ dambbrother


	4. end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smiity comes back with john later on in the week.

smiity comes back with john later on in the week. john stares at the phone for a few minutes, processing. looks up at ohm after hes done. kryoz says, 'im sorry.' and types something before handing the phone back and excusing himself and smitty. call if you need tips and tricks with water, brothr. ohm hates that kryoz has to offer them. ohm hates that he knows the tips and tricks of dealing with water. he shouldnt have to know.

he doesnt encounter water unless its in a small cup for him to drink, so he doesnt call yet.

(he hopes he doesnt need to.

hes going to need to.)

.

his first interaction with water when showering goes sour.

he immediately steps (hops. no weight on his ankle.) out of the shower and dries off completely.

he calls kryoz, and kryoz and smiity talk to him for hours, until he can breathe and close his eyes and not feel like hes choking on water.

next time, he calls kryoz before he showers. kryoz and smiity play uno outside the bathroom door on the floor. the bathroom door stays cracked, and kryoz says if ohm needs anything that theyre here.

ohm feels like a child, unstable and useless.

he turns the water pressure down and showers with his entire neck and up out of the water. as john had suggested, he uses a washcloth to wet his hair and then washes it. uses a washcloth to slowly get the soap out of his hair. he does get tired. hes so tired after the shower. his shoulders hurt. he eventually tilts his head back and slowly puts his head under the slow, soft water coming from the shower head. he rinses, and when hes done he steps out and dries completely. he grabs the oversized shirt he woke up in those months ago and puts it on. wears loose grey sweatpants. ties the new mesh blindfold to his face and looks at himself in the mirror. this blindfold doesnt impair his sight. he can see. he closes his eyes, breathes.

takes it back off.

feels his hair drip water onto his neck. he dries it off more, and stands quietly. kryoz peeks around the door when he doesnt hear ohm move for awhile and says, 'blow drying your hair helps.' ohm says,

'i dont own one.'

'you can borrow mine.'

'can i?'

'i brought it just in case, dude.'

john disappears from the door and reappears with his hairdryer. ohm stares at it. his shoulders hurt.

john plugs it in and says, 'itll be loud.' 

he turns it on, and hes right. it is loud. he puts his hand out to ohms, and when he reaches his own hand over, kryoz grabs it gently and turns it palm up. he turns the hairdryer onto ohms arm, over his hand. says, 'it sounds sort of like water rushing in your ears when you angle it over them.' and ohm looks up at john. john looks up from ohms arm. 'its air,' and ohm knows, because hes still running the dryer over his arm, and its warm, soft. 'and ill avoid going over your ears.'

ohm nods, and john steps around behind ohm, and runs the dryer around over his hair. john doesnt turn the force of the air up, keeps it slow, quieter, and ruffles ohms hair every so often. ohm watches in the mirror, and turns his gaze to the door, where smiity is watching as he leans against the doorway with half lidded eyes. he looks tired. ohm looks back at john in the mirror and said person lifts their gaze from his hair to ohms gaze in the mirror. asks, 'still good?'

ohm nods, and breathes. lifts his hand to his hair and runs his fingers through it. its long. john waits, and then shows ohm how to work it after hes done. says, 'keep this one in here. ill use smits or somethin', ohmie.' with a smile. smiity hums at his name and stretches.

finally, finally, ohm leaves the bathroom. he avoids the uno game left out on the carpet in front of the door. john says, 'lets move, smit.' and smiity huffs. gathers the cards and stacks them before standing and sitting on ohms bed. smiity says, 'uno game?', looking at ohm.

he climbs into bed, carefully, and sits with his back against the wall.

'sure.'

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ dambbrother


End file.
